Monochrome
by Exhile87
Summary: P3. Because life isn't just one shade of colour. Companion fic to Universe. Final chapter up. Akihiko/Mitsuru.
1. Monochrome

**A/N: No, I just can't get enough AkiMitsu. I started this months ago when I was itching to write something about the two and came up with an idea for a 2-chapter fic to accompany _Universe._ You don't need to have read that to understand this, but considering most of the things here are intertwined with the events in that story, it would certainly help if you did. **

**This chapter will focus on little bits and pieces of Mitsuru's life. The next will be Akihiko's. There will be some mature material but nothing explicit; I really don't think it warrants an M-rating. **

**Also, this is my first time writing in present tense and although it was a nice change, I found myself gradually veering off to past tense sometimes. Please do point out anything that sounds funny and I'll (try) to correct them. As usual, let me know about typos too. **

**And I own NOTHING... (except a certain fangirl...)  
**

* * *

_Mother_

She accepts the cup of tea from the maid with a grateful nod and takes a sip, fully aware that the lady before her is watching her behind the china touching her own lips. Mitsuru breathes in the sweet scent of the brew and sets the cup down, shifting her gaze to the small but incredibly well-kept garden below the veranda. Eimi Kirijo has always had a green thumb.

_How is school, my dear?_ It is one of her usual questions. The redhead turns and smiles slightly, a finger lightly touching the rim of the cup in her hands. _Everything is fine,_ she answers. There is a pause as she hesitates, then says, _I am happy to see you in good health._

Her mother's smile is as warm as she remembers but there is no mistaking the dark look clouding her eyes when she asks, _Are you still… helping your father?_

The inquiry is vague but does not faze Mitsuru. She understands its true meaning. It is something that she does not like to talk about during their occasional afternoon teas. Regardless, the matter is always unavoidable and so she sips her drink again and quietly assures, _I am not alone… I have friends now—Sanada and Aragaki, as you'd recall. _She knows her response does nothing to ease her mother's concerns. Eimi has turned away, a distant expression on her refined countenance, a recognisable look. Mitsuru stares at her, anticipating her next words and yet already knowing what they would be. These meetings… they are like clockwork—the tea, the garden, the pleasantries. The questions and answers. The lies.

… _And your father? _It is as she expects. Eimi cups a cheek with her hand and her attention returns to her daughter. _Is he well? _

Yet again Mitsuru stares, wanting to not notice the ache in her mother's eyes or the watery smile on her lips. They are things she is already familiar with—things she hates seeing, but the show must go on. There is no room for compassion or sentimental feelings. Everything is like clockwork, and so she smiles back, albeit half-heartedly, and says,_ Yes. Yes, he is. _

o-o-o-o-o

_Internet_

Be it school assignments or college work or the Group's business matters, the internet has always been one of her indispensable tools. She loves how extremely convenient and quick it is; everything in just a click of a button. Some subjects she finds rather strange, others simply amusing or sometimes even informative. She has looked up countless things—from Pocky (she had seen Iori eating it one day) to quantum physics to that random boy band she saw a poster of in the mall.

Now she stares at the keyboard, fingers poised over it, feeling uncertain all of a sudden. The cursor on the screen blinks patiently. She glances at the empty search engine bar and inhales deeply, then types in the words. It is hard for her not to breathe faster, not to notice her pulse racing, but the deed is done. She pushes the **Enter** button and waits, feeling as if she is balancing on a tightrope with nothing to catch her below.

The results of her search pop up in less than a second and the words she is faced with make her blush harder. Some are extremely embarrassing to read even in her head and some just make her stare even more blankly, unable to comprehend their meaning. Her eyebrows arch down in a puzzled frown and she hastily clicks on the first link—_anything_ to get away from so many of the discomforting words in bold. Amber eyes scan through the article, catching key words and phrases that make her cheeks and ears burn…

_Tongue. Underside. Up and down. Hands in your hair. Slowly. His breathing. Lick ha—_

It is too much for her. For the first time, her curiosity has backfired. She quickly closes the browser, catching much needed breaths, and, after a moment's thought, clears the browser's cache, history, cookies, _any_ trail that she might have left. The uneasy feeling within her does not leave even after she has turned the laptop off and she is unable to stop herself from going red when she bumps into him at the stairs hours later. _What's wrong?_ Akihiko is surprised but clearly concerned.

_N-nothing!_ She cannot help the defensive, slightly irritated tone in her voice and walks away without another word, leaving him mystified.

o-o-o-o-o

_Tea_

She is _not_ addicted to it. She refuses to accept that she can be that weak, but it is almost twenty four hours since her last cup of tea and she is close to biting someone's head off. Classic withdrawal syndrome. Inhaling deeply, she massages the bridge of her nose and takes a drink of water. The bland liquid quenches her thirst but does not satisfy her craving. She looks longingly at the door, then shifts her attention back to the people around her.

—_could do spot checks on the students,_ Odagiri is saying, his eyebrows arching down in his usual frown. _If we can catch the culprit off guard…_

Yes, that's right—they are discussing about the smoker. She had been abnormally inattentive halfway through the meeting. It does not help that it is almost four thirty and all Odagiri has talked about for the past forty five minutes is the cigarette stub he found in the boys' toilets and the many ways they could track down the person responsible for it. She glances at the other council members. A few are listening intently; some agree with the disciplinary committee's ideas and others rebuke them. The Secretary is stifling a yawn and Fushimi is scribbling something on paper. Mitsuru looks again to the door, her thoughts already fleeting, feeling as if a time bomb was ready to explode within her.

_What do you think, Kirijo__-san? _Odagiri's words make her realise she has not been listening to a thing he has said. When she turns to him, the sudden burst of annoyance is uncontrollable and unexpected but she manages to suppress it just in time, inwardly scolding herself. It is unfair for her to snap at him simply because of her own weakness. He is a responsible and an incredibly loyal member, albeit a tad persistent, but he deserves her respect. Taking another deep breath, she brushes her bangs aside and realises that everyone is waiting patiently for her response. Another agitating spark jumps inside her. This is preposterous. She cannot possibly be feeling this way simply because she wants her tea. She is _**not**_ addicted to it!

Still, regardless of the indignant voice in her head, she finds herself shutting her notebook and saying firmly, _We shall continue this tomorrow._ The others are taken aback by her unusual behaviour, though it is hard not to notice some of them heaving sighs in relief. Odagiri stares at her in dismay and opens his mouth to say something, but she is already out of the room.

o-o-o-o-o

_Son_

His blood runs through her veins and she hates him for that. She hates his greed and selfishness, his obsession with the Shadows, his indifference to what he had caused even in the final moments of his life. Most of all, she hates how he had hated who she was; how he had hated her mother for not bearing the family a male heir and how he had hated his own son for not sharing the sentiment.

Still, she can't help but wonder if she would have grown to be the person she is now had his opinion of her been any different. Ever since her younger days, she had learnt to push herself to her limits precisely because of his disapproval and distaste, wanting to prove him wrong in every way, to show him that it matters not that the Kirijo line would be continued by a girl.

She remembers standing by his casket, staring down at the ghostly-white face of the man who had destroyed her father's soul, feeling hollow, empty. She shed no tears—the man did not deserve them, not even as he took his last breath. Perhaps a part of her had been somewhat glad at the time and she is not ashamed that she had felt like that.

It is almost six years since his passing, yet she constantly feels the need to surpass others, as if, even in death, he still lingers over her shoulders, passing judgement at her every action, hissing criticisms into her ear. People always did say that old habits die hard.

She fights Shadows to protect her father and right the wrongs of her family, but it is hard for her not to take a strange sort of satisfaction in knowing that she is also helping to destroy something Kouetsu Kirijo—the grandfather she so despises—had created.

o-o-o-o-o

_Underclassman_

_S-s-senpai!_ The girl before her is clearly nervous and this puzzles her very much. It is not someone she expects to see the moment she steps out of the Student Council room. _Yes? Can I help you?_ Mitsuru inquires politely. Perhaps this girl is worried about something. As the new President, she needs to appear approachable; after all, it is her duty to listen to any concerns or complaints from the students.

The girl is short and dark-haired with a timid sort of expression, much like that of Fushimi's, the council treasurer. _I… uh… I-I mean…_ she stammers. Mitsuru raises her eyebrows. Has someone harassed this person in any way? Her anxiety is most disconcerting. The redhead takes a quick look at her watch. Thirteen minutes before the meeting—she still has time. _Do you have something you'd like to bring to the attention of the council? _She inquires. _We prefer students to use the comment box but I have some time for a short chat. What is your name and class?_

The girl's reaction to the harmless question is baffling. She steps an inch closer and her mouth opens but the hesitant words come out a few seconds later, _Uh… I'm… I'm, uh… S-S-Saya… um… C-class 1… 1-D… S-Saya… A-Atsuki…_

Mitsuru blinks, noticing how crimson the student's face has become, not understanding this very strange behaviour at all but perhaps the girl is a stutterer. Regardless, she is used to being patient and so, she says,_ And how can I help you, Atsuki?_

The girl suddenly backs away and something that sounds remarkably like a choked hiccup escapes her. She turns away quickly and flees, calling out in a terrified tone, _N-never mind, Senpai!_ The few students she passes along the hallway stare after her in surprise. Mitsuru herself is uncharacteristically dumbfounded and wonders if she had seemed too hasty or forward with her questions. Perhaps she should try a different approach next time…

o-o-o-o-o

_Rain_

She stares at both of them and glances to the pouring sky, her eyebrows lowered in a knot of worry. They are completely soaked now; shirts clinging to their bodies, silver and brown hair slick and wet. They beckon towards her and call her name, flashes of white from their teeth as they grin widely but still, she does not move from her spot under the shelter. She can be adventurous at times, yes, but now she is unsure, wanting to take that step and join them and yet, hesitant and unable to do anything except watch the two boys in front of her. It goes against every fibre of her upbringing.

Sanada is calling her again but it is Aragaki who strides over, catches hold of her wrist and drags her out with them despite her protests. It only takes a few seconds before she is drenched, her skin cool in the summer evening. It feels strange in the downpour and as he releases his grasp on her, she finds herself looking up, squinting at the heavy drops of water falling down on her face, feeling an odd exhilaration growing within her. She has never realised how something as simple as standing in the rain can feel so liberating.

_Feels good, huh__?_ Aragaki says, running a hand in his hair with a smirk. She wants to answer—_Yes—_but instead, she remains silent and simply nods. Sanada smiles, wiping the water from his eyes. _You've never fooled around in the rain when you were a kid? _He asks in surprise. She shakes her head, inwardly wondering if she should feel embarrassed. It is barely three months since their friendship started and she is still unaccustomed to their ways.

She comes down with the 'flu the next day, her body not used to being subjected to such conditions of the evening before, but it is a price she is more than willing to pay for that first step out of her prison cell.

o-o-o-o-o

_Upperclassman_

He looks at her and she feels strangely anxious, as if her clothes are transparent or she is exposed in some way, but he doesn't seem to notice her change of demeanour. He turns to the Head of the Disciplinary Committee next to hear the girl's weekly report and Mitsuru watches him from the other end of the table. He lifts a finger to push up the bridge of his glasses and makes a mild remark about something that does not even register in her head. Then he moves on to the Junior Representative.

It's not that she is too young to realise it is a crush—she is just inexperienced and naïve. She had attracted many boys even in middle school but none had ever caught her attention like he has. She has always focused more on her work than her surroundings, anyway. He is plain-looking and has a quirky manner of frowning but it is his intelligence and strong leadership that draw her in. Though she admires his kindly ways and helpful nature, she tells no one of her views. Best to keep things like this to herself.

When the meeting ends, she is pleasantly surprised when he calls her over to him. The others take no notice. There is nothing unusual about the Council President wanting to talk to one of the members. He is penning something down in his notebook when she goes to stand by his desk. _I saw your exam scores, Kirijo. Great work, _he says, giving her a smile. Praise is always nice but it coming from a highly respected senior is even more pleasing. _Thank you, Senpai,_ she answers, her quiet tone belying her delight.

_The University of Kobe is holding a youth forum in two weeks. They're inviting the top students in high schools around the country. You interested? _He takes a few sheets of paper from a file and hands them to her. She scans through the pages quickly. _I'll consider it,_ she says with a nod. He replies, _Let me know by Thursday. I'll put your name down if you're up for it._ She merely nods again in response, then goes to pick up her bag and leave the room, taking one last glance at him, but his back is turned to her.

It is two years since his graduation. He still crosses her mind occasionally and she cannot help laughing at herself when that happens, thinking how rather silly it all was. Akihiko himself is amused when she nonchalantly mentions it. _So that's why you were always staying back to help with the council,_ he remarks and she blushes.

o-o-o-o-o

_Kitchen_

They barely say a word to each other during breakfast. She cannot help but go slightly pink at a mere glance at him and likewise, his eyes do not linger long on her. After everything that has happened, it is inevitable. Thankfully, the juniors do not seem to notice something is amiss. Her father is, as expected, having his own meal in his study.

It is an hour or so after that she finds Akihiko in the kitchen, standing by the sink on the spotless marble counter, a glass of water in his hand. The others are already at the beach. He stares at her like a deer caught in headlights and this time, she is able to look straight at him. He could have asked Ayako to bring him something to drink, she tells him. _I'm not that comfortable with maids,_ he replies with a tiny grin.

There is a brief silence as they lock gazes and she hastily turns away, feeling oddly ineloquent for once, a nagging lump in her throat. She had spent so much time preparing herself for last night that she has absolutely no idea what to do the morning after. The way he looks at her reminds her of just how much they'd given up to each other—how much of herself she had willingly surrendered to him. It is hard for her not to think about what they'd shared without feeling her blood rushing hotter.

_Are you, um… gonna join the others? _His face reddens the moment the words leave his mouth. She leans back against the counter and quickly glances around to make sure they are alone. _Yes, _she coolly answers. _Weren't you planning on doing some laps?_ The casual tone of their short conversation feels strange. Even stranger is the fact that the both of them are clearly uneasy around one another, as if everything has changed after…

They say no more, but when he walks past her later, their fingers brush each other and then his hand is already resting lightly by her waist. She turns to feel his breath fluttering at her neck, her cheeks beginning to warm. They stand there, locking gazes, reliving the emotions they had felt the night before, and she involuntarily shivers. She wants to be with him but it is too risky. Her father is upstairs. The maids could see them any minute now.

He understands that expression in her eyes. As quickly as it happened, they break apart silently and she turns to head down to the beach. He follows half a minute behind.

o-o-o-o-o

_Impulse_

Her father has always been a quiet person but this time, his silence is chilling and disconcerting. She follows him obediently into his study, glancing back at the men trailing behind. Their faces are grim; no hint of acknowledgement about what had happened at all. One of them is holding on to her Evoker.

He moves to the nearby bar and pours himself a drink, downing it in a single gulp. She watches him carefully, wanting to gauge his emotions, but he just sets the glass on the table and orders their bodyguards out. When the door shuts quietly, he turns to her and swiftly delivers a sharp slap to her face. She is unprepared for such a move, involuntarily stepping back from the force of the blow. Her cheek flames and stings but there are no tears, just a dull shock. Her father walks to his desk and sits down, the chair creaking softly under his weight. She stands as still as a rock, breathing deep, shame seeping into the crevices of her soul. He has never acted as such before.

_I have told you countless times __**never**__ to go in there alone. _His voice is tight and low and she knows that he is furious. _You are still not accustomed to using a Persona. Why did you disobey me? _She does not know what to say, how to explain her sudden recklessness in that fleeting moment, and so, she merely stares back at him. He unknowingly takes it as a challenge.

_**Mitsuru!**_ His livid growl makes her jump. It is unusual to see him so angry. She swallows hard and says, almost inaudibly, something she does not say very often, _I'm sorry._

He glares at her and gets up from his seat, leaving the room without another word, never casting her a second glance, and she is left alone to lick her wounds. Never before has he raised a hand against her. This time would be his first and last—she swears to that.

o-o-o-o-o

_Risk_

His elbow knocks over a pen holder and they immediately freeze at the soft crash. She whispers a half-hearted reprimand but he ignores her and soon her fingers are back on his head, buried in his hair. They breathe into each other's ears, sighs quiet and gasps hollow. She feels the sharp jab of the table at her hips as he pushes her harder against it and this time, her chide is clearly one of annoyance. He murmurs an apology but does not relent. The subject escapes from her mind like a piece of paper washed away down a drain. Perhaps it is because she is starting to get delirious from the pleasure. It matters not—she is all his now and she wants nothing more than to swim in the ocean of bliss that only he can evoke inside her.

The sudden jiggling of the door handle interrupts them for the second time. They stiffen, eyes darting to the door at once. The handle moves again but to no avail. _Eh? It wasn't locked before,_ a puzzled voice remarks from outside.

_Don't you have the key?_

_Only the President and Vice-President have it. Aw shit, I think I left my math book in there…_

Akihiko pants against her and she feels him smile almost evilly before he resumes what he does best. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck in retaliation and he can't help but choke out a grunt of pain. She kisses him to muffle the sound.

_Let's go find the President. She's usually outside the Faculty __Office… or maybe in the library?_

_Hmm… I'm pretty sure I saw her walking around here somewhere a few minutes ago, though. _She sees the door shake once more from the corner of her eyes but all she can think about is him within her and how close they are to being discovered, the latter thought sending an unexpected jolt of excitement through her. The situation that had earlier been so inappropriate now seems like a dangerous, thrilling venture. What is life, after all, without a little risk?

o-o-o-o-o

_Imagination_

He wonders if he had imagined it—the way their hands touched lightly, subtle yet intimate. Maybe the lights were playing tricks on him. Both seem unperturbed by his presence, however. Mitsuru acknowledges him in her quiet, respectful tone and Sanada mumbles a similar greeting before edging away to stand by the large TV, turning to the many photographs on the wall.

_Why are you not with the others?_ He does not sound agitated but merely curious. Although he was initially surprised at their arrival, he understands that this is a well-earned break for them. It is almost two weeks since he has seen his daughter, anyway. She brushes back her hair and crosses her arms, gesturing towards her silver-haired companion. _I was just showing Akihiko around, _she says. _The juniors preferred to entertain themselves with a bout of table tennis._

_I hope you don't mind, sir, _Sanada hesitantly says. Takeharu shakes his head and responds, _Not at all... Mitsuru, come to my study tonight. There are some things we need to discuss._

_Yes, father,_ she nods and he turns to leave the room, glancing one final time at the two. There is a hint of apprehension in the looks they exchange. He shuts the door and heads to his office on the second floor, his thoughts lingering back to what he thinks he had seen when he stepped into the lounge moments ago. Is there something between Mitsuru and Sanada? He knows that the boy is one of the very few she really trusts and they have known each other for quite a while now, but still, he cannot help the unsettling and protective feelings growing within him. She is his only daughter and it is hard for him to accept her having a relationship with someone. As unrefined as he might be, Sanada does not seem like a bad person, but Takeharu is not well acquainted with him.

He knows it is unreasonable but he refuses to accept that anyone can be good enough for her—can be _worthy_ of Mitsuru. True, there had been the occasional suggestions about future marriages from the people in his line of work, but he had always brushed them aside, not wanting to consider things like that at the time, or any other time, for that matter.

But come now, why is he contemplating such issues? He is not even certain if Mitsuru is involved with anyone, and the more he ponders about it, the more he thinks he had imagined any sort of intimacy between her and Akihiko Sanada.

o-o-o-o-o

_Jeans_

Akihiko stares at her with wide eyes when she steps out and is unable to contain his amusement, chuckling softly. She is offended at once, then dismayed. _Why are you laughing?_ Her tone is flat and indignant but his grin does not falter even at her frown. She self-consciously straightens and brushes down her top, her cheeks beginning to flush.

_I don't think you should be walking around in that,_ he tells her bluntly. _I'm not one for fashion but even I can tell that they don't match. _She retreats into the changing room with a glare on her face and comes back out in her skirt in less than half a minute and promptly walks to the check-out with the article of clothing in her hands. He trails after her, suddenly quiet, but when the numbers pop up on the register, he does not conceal his shock. _I'm not imagining those zeroes, am I?_ He asks in disbelief but she just hands the girl a credit card and answers, in an unusually obstinate tone, _I __**want**__ it._ It is true—she has always wanted a pair of jeans, especially after seeing Takeba's one Sunday, but for some inexplicable reason, her family stylist bans that clothing in particular in the Kirijo wardrobe.

He is still dazed when they leave the store but she takes no notice of his feelings. _Look, uh… I'm sorry about before…_ he starts slowly. _But you did say you wanted me to be honest…_

She knows she is being irrational by getting annoyed at his previous remark but she cannot help it. She doesn't really understand why his approval is important to her either, so she just shrugs and keeps walking. He pauses, sighs, and then finally offers to get them some takoyaki—a sort of peace offering. She accepts at once and tries hard to hide her smile, but he notices anyway.

o-o-o-o-o

_Over_

Her hand begins to shake as she stares at the small package in her grasp. There is no mistaking it—the white, tiny tablets, one for each day and month. The little holes on the packet indicate that the last one she supposedly took was on the final day of January, almost 3 and a half weeks ago. But she doesn't remember any of this. She doesn't even remember buying the pills, let alone using them. But they must be hers; the former residents of this room had cleared everything out when they left and no one could have entered the place for she has always locked the door in her absence. She turns the pack over to look for the expiry date. October 2011. They are _hers._

… No no no no no. They can't possibly be hers. For starters, she would have _remembered_ taking them. There is absolutely no reason at all for her to use birth control pills. She knows nothing about how they came to be in her possession. She knows _nothing_ about them. She throws the packet into the dustbin and continues to sort through the drawers, trying to keep her mind occupied with something else. She is already late in packing up her things. She should have started a week ago but company and council matters had taken up most of her time. Graduation is now only one day away and she is supposed to leave the dorm two days after.

An hour later, she goes down to the kitchen to get a drink of water. The juniors are in the lounge, watching TV and talking amongst themselves. Someone is rummaging through the fridge and she notices a tuft of silver just behind the door. Sanada looks up when she passes and grunts, _Yo._ They have been dorm mates for more than a year but she still doesn't really know him very well.

_Hello,_ she responds as she takes a glass and fills it up. He is holding a protein drink when she turns and for a brief moment, something familiar about the situation strikes her, like an eerie déjà vu. She blinks and it is gone. _You all packed?_ He asks good-naturedly. She shakes her head. _I just started today,_ she says. _It's been a little slow-going…_

_I'm almost done._ He grins. _Heh, found loads of stuff I thought I'd lost tucked into some place in my drawers. Some of them I've never even seen before... Must have been stuffed into my locker or something._ He rolls his eyes.

At his words, her thoughts inevitably shift to the medication she had discovered and she finds herself frowning hard. Could it be someone's idea of a prank? She has always hated practical jokes. She finishes her drink and excuses herself, returning to her room to start on her wardrobe. She is sorting through the undergarments and socks there when her fingers touch a hard box underneath the hosieries. Slightly surprised, she takes it out and slips the cover open.

Mitsuru's eyes widen. She stares, confused, bewildered and utterly shocked at the contents of the box. A sleek, shiny gun and a red armband with printed black letters lie there, but it is something else that makes her heart race even faster—a picture tucked in one corner of the box. A picture of two people: a redheaded girl smiling, holding and leaning onto the shoulder of a platinum-haired boy with an arm snugly around her waist. They are clearly a couple, but wait a minute, it is a picture of her with—

Her breath catches at her throat.

* * *

**A/N: A couple of things to clarify...**

**1) I have always assumed that Mitsuru's mother was dead but she makes an 'appearance' in the latest Drama CD and her supposed name is Eimi Kirijo. I have no idea what the deal is between her, Mitsuru and Takeharu, so I kept the first part of this chapter ambiguous on purpose. Bottom line, arranged marriages = bad ending. **

**2) There's a reason for the seemingly random subjects/words. :)  
**


	2. Already Gone

**A/N: Apologies for the update that has taken more than a year! 2010 has been a particularly challenging year for me due to some personal circumstances but now that things are brighter, I managed to have some inspiration to finally complete this story. **

**This chapter will focus on Akihiko and it also makes a tiny, tiny reference to the events in the Persona: Trinity Soul anime (Older Aki is so smexy). I've proof-read it but do let me know if you spot any errors.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly...**

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* * *

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_Aragaki_

The punch comes without a warning. One moment he is glaring at the boy before him and the next he is already on the ground, his head spinning wildly. He can hear Miki already running to his side but he pushes her away as he scrambles up and practically pounces onto his opponent with a furious yell. Pretty soon, they are both rolling about in the grass, kneeing each other, hitting any parts they can see with clumsy punches, smearing their faces and limbs with dirt. Miki starts to cry but the only thing Akihiko can think about is smacking that smug grin off that other boy's face. The other children are crowding around them, babbling excitedly. Miki is calling his name. He doesn't hear a thing.

The torrent of water suddenly splashing down on him is icy cold and he gives an involuntary yelp, kicking away at the other boy. Then someone is twisting his left ear painfully, tugging it and forcing him up from the ground and he yelps again. Blinking hard, he sees the orphanage matron holding onto him, and though it still hurts, he is pleased to find that she is giving the same treatment to the boy. An empty bucket lies on the grass, next to a worried Miki and the grinning children. The matron is scolding them angrily, her tight grip merciless and smarting.

It is half an hour before dinner and he and the boy are promptly sent to bed without their meal after a change of clothes. Akihiko is sullen and his entire body aches and stings. Bruises are beginning to form on his arms and thighs, but he feels victorious because he has given the other boy a very pronounced black eye. It is unfortunate that they share the same dormitory and that their beds are barely five steps away from one another. He has the urge to continue the fight but this is only his second day at the orphanage. He doesn't want to be sent away.

There is nothing for him to do in the dormitory, so he lies in his bed and tries to sleep. Fails. His stomach starts to grumble. The other boy's breathing is infuriating.

He doesn't know how long he stays there under the sheets, hungry and sulky. When the door creaks open, he looks up at once. _Nii-san, _Miki's timid voice calls out. His spirits rise and he sits up eagerly. She moves towards him, her feet pattering quietly on the tatami, and pushes a hastily wrapped package into his hands, whispering that she had managed to smuggle some food from the kitchen. He barely has time to thank her because she is disappearing out the door again, afraid of being caught. Quickly tearing away the paper, his mouth begins to water as he eyes the biscuits and melonpan before him. Then he realises that the boy is watching him from his own bed, silent and brooding but most certainly as ravenous as he is.

Perhaps it is the way his anger simply dissipated when he saw the food, or maybe it is just not in his nature to bear a grudge for long. He breaks the melonpan in half, takes a couple of the chocolate biscuits, and holds them out to the boy, who merely stares at him in surprise and doesn't move. _Aren't ya hungry? _Akihiko asks.

The boy's face suddenly breaks into a grin and he scrambles up from his bed, taking the offered food and munching hard. _Thanks,_ he mumbles with his mouth full. Akihiko just grunts and starts to eat his share. It is not enough to satisfy him but at least he won't be going to sleep on an empty stomach. When they are done, the boy wipes his lips with his sleeve and snuggles back under his sheets. _That your sister just now? _The boy inquires. His voice is not belligerent.

_Her name's Miki,_ comes the response after a moment. _And I'm Akihiko._

… _Aki, huh? _The boy yawns, tossing in his bed, the sheets rustling. Akihiko waits for him to introduce himself, but when only a pregnant silence fills the air, he frowns and asks impatiently, _What's __**your**__ name?_

The boy yawns again. _Aragaki,_ he replies neutrally. _Shinjiro Aragaki. _

o-o-o-o-o

_Kiss_

Her fingers are cold. She cleans the deep gash on the side of his forehead as gently as she can, yet he cannot help wincing slightly as the wound burned. He is still a little dizzy from the fall and he knows there is a large bruise at his hip where he landed on the ground. It is one of the rare moments he would readily admit he had underestimated that Shadow. Then again, she probably had as well. At least both of them managed to get back to the dorm in one piece after that disastrous battle.

_I still think that we should drop by the hospital. That fall could have caused a concussion,_ Mitsuru murmurs, her breath warm against his jaw, reminding him just how close she is. _I'm fine,_ he wearily assures her. _You worry about yourself._ There is a red stain on her blouse where the Shadow had lashed out and his eyes glue to the spot as she bandages his injury. When she finishes, he silently soaks a wad of cotton in iodine and motions for her roll up her sleeve. She complies just as quietly. Dia can only do so much and they have been a duo—cut down from a trio—long enough that patching each other up every night they go out is already one of their rituals. Like the way she lets him so near without a word, or the way he lets her touch him without squirming in his seat.

First aid is definitely not Akihiko's forte and he knows the result of his attempts, as usual, amuses her, though she doesn't say a word. He is cutting the medical tape from her dressing when her hand reaches up to touch the bandage on his head—for what reason, he doesn't know—but the movement is enough for him to tilt his head up towards her. She is looking at him, appearing as if she is about to say something, and he finds himself glancing at her pink lips.

Yes, it is a ritual, but this has not happened before. He hastily shifts his attention back to her arm, seeing her also turn away from the corner of his eyes. His fingers have halted and he suddenly realises that there is a strange thundering of drums in his head. His pulse. What happened? He doesn't know why he wants to look at her again. His eyes rise to hers to find them already on him and they stare silently at one another once more. This has never happened before.

She takes the first step, moving ever so slightly towards him, and he doesn't know why but it is enough to make him lean in and when his mouth meets hers, the half-sigh, half-murmur from the back of her throat sends a pleasant tingle down his spine. He has never heard her utter such a… _defenceless _sound before. They pause after that tentative touch, breathing deep, and the only things he can think about are how soft her lips are, how she hasn't pulled away and slapped him, and how much he likes that unusual, demure expression on her face. How much he doesn't want this to end just yet. He kisses her again and she does not stop him, hands reaching up to his collar to tug him closer. His own fingers are tracing the curve of her neck. He has never touched her there before.

Akihiko doesn't understand how everything between them can change in one night, in one brief, vulnerable moment, but after taking that step forward, he never wants to go back.

o-o-o-o-o

_Idol_

The young newcomer to the dorm is unexpectedly mature and precocious for his age, but Akihiko has absolutely no idea why Ken finds it necessary to latch onto him and—quite literally—_stalk_ him. Whenever Akihiko leaves his room, he would find Ken either waiting for him in the small lounge on the second floor or in the main living room downstairs. Whenever Akihiko busies himself in the kitchen, getting ready a light meal or a protein shake, he would find Ken sitting by the counter, staring at him with interest. Whenever Akihiko sits in the lounge with the others, stitching up his torn boxing gloves or eating his ramen, he would find Ken standing or sitting nearby, watching his every move.

It is getting creepy, especially since Akihiko knows just who the elementary school kid really is.

_Why do you think he's always following me around?_ He asks Mitsuru once when they are alone. She raises her eyebrows in a somewhat amused manner and replies,_ He probably looks up to you. You __**are**__ Gekkoukan's boxing champion, after all, and you have held on to that for close to three years now. Maybe he's a boxing fan. _

_It's hard to sneak around to see you with him tailing me, _he admits with a scratch behind his ear. _And aren't you worried about having him in the dorm at night, with everyone going to Tartarus and all that? _

_The Chairman thinks he may have the potential, but as long as his Persona hasn't surfaced, I'm quite sure he will be alright, _she says confidently.

He smoothes back his short hair and closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, a familiar and haunting image of Shinji shaking and covered in blood flashing vividly in his mind. _Fate's got a fucking sadistic sense of humour to be leading __**him**__,__of all people, to us after all this time,_ he bitterly mutters. He does not usually talk so crudely in front of her but having Ken Amada live under the same roof as him is very unsettling, like somewhere, somehow, there is a ticking time-bomb ready to blow up at any moment. What will Shinji think about this?

Mitsuru says nothing, but she has tensed up from his words. He thinks about the admiration he sees in his eyes when Ken asks him for guidance with his homework, the eagerness Ken shows when wanting to aid him with a chore, and Akihiko can't help but wonder if the little boy would still see him as an idol if he discovers just what they have been hiding from him.

o-o-o-o-o

_Heal_

Junpei finds him in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a polystyrene ramen bowl. The dark-haired junior's face is uncharacteristically troubled as he calls quietly, _Senpai, got a minute?_

Akihiko is surprised, naturally. _What's up?_ He asks, eyebrows beginning to arch down, and Junpei places an envelope he has been holding onto the counter, saying, _I went to the store to print the pics I've taken in the last few months. I was looking through them in my room just now and found this. _Hecarefully slips something out from an envelope. When he looks closer, Akihiko sees that it is a photograph of all of them—the SEES members.

With Takeharu Kirijo.

Of course. The picture that had been taken the night of their celebration; the night Ikutsuki's true intentions were finally revealed, and the night Mitsuru...

He bites his lower lip and Junpei notices at once. _I don't know if I should chuck it out or not. Mitsuru-senpai might not wanna be reminded of…_ The junior scratched his head underneath the baseball cap and sighed heavily. _I mean, I just don't wanna bring back any bad memories, y'know? But…whaddya think, senpai?_

Akihiko can't even remember how long it has been since that fateful night, but a few days have passed since the Kyoto trip and Mitsuru appears to have reverted to her old self. As much as it had pained him for not being able to help her overcome this, he is very grateful for what Yukari has done for her.

_You should give it to her. She'd like it,_ Akihiko tells Junpei, who blinks at him doubtfully for a while before nodding.

Later that evening, when Mitsuru is reading in the lounge, Junpei seats himself down beside her, putting his handheld console on the coffee table. At the kitchen counter, mixing himself a protein shake, Akihiko watches silently as the junior says something to Mitsuru, then holds up the picture. He can't see her face but he knows her well enough to notice the stiffening in her shoulders. She takes the photograph and looks at it without a word. Next to her, Junpei appears a little uneasy, but she must have smiled and thanked him, because he suddenly grins back and nods his head, grabbing the console and settling himself comfortably on the couch to resume his game.

Mitsuru studies the picture for another moment before slipping it into her book and getting up to head to the stairs. Her eyes catch Akihiko's as she passes him and he turns back to his drink, bringing it to his lips to gulp it down. Takeharu Kirijo's death had been a huge blow to her morale and state of mind, but Mitsuru has always been strong. He knows that all she needs are time and the push in the right direction to heal this wound.

o-o-o-o-o

_Ice_

He is not a coward and he never runs from a fight. In the boxing ring, defence is secondary; he is always the first to rain punch after punch on his opponent without letting up, so this situation is fairly new to him, to say the least. He dashes down the dark corridor of this place Mitsuru Kirijo calls 'The Tartarus', panting hard and glancing back at the creature pursuing him. How the _hell_ does she expect him to be ready for this after only one night? Where the fuck is she anyway? She _said_ she would be right behind him!

His gloves are greasy with some sort of black muck where he had tried to punch the grotesque-looking creature, or Shadow, as Kirijo calls it. His pistol—_Evoker—_is in his holster and as he runs, he reaches for it and takes it out, only to have the gleaming gun slip away from his fingers through the grease, clattering to the floor. He curses audibly. Somewhere behind the Shadow, he can hear Kirijo following them. She is telling him to turn back and lead the creature towards her, but he wants to scream at her in frustration, even through his heavy pants and breathing.

In the ring, he can see his opponent eye to eye and gauge their actions, mould _his_ actions to be a reaction to theirs, but fighting Shadows is a whole different ball game. His opponents in the ring are always human, for one thing, and they never chase after him like a frenzied hunter sniffing out a prey. How the hell is he supposed to lead it back to Kirijo? _Fuck this!_ He thinks, terrified, wanting to go back to his old life and not have to deal with any of this Dark Hour or Persona crap.

_Sanada, look out!_ He hears her shout at him and he turns to look back just in time to see a cloud of white heading his way. He doesn't know what it is but when it hits him, a wave of numbing cold washes over, overwhelming him so quickly that one moment, he is frigid, and the next, he is hurting like _hell _all over from the icy attack. He yelps and stumbles onto the ground, rolling around in a crazed manner in a useless attempt to warm himself. The pain is indescribable and his eyes are foggy, his brain a mush.

He thinks he hears a gunshot, a menacing growl from the Shadow, the sound of footsteps and steel cutting through something like custard or jelly. He blinks hard and still can only see dots in his vision. Stupidly, he is reminded of the time his sparring partner had accidentally given him a black eye during one of their practice sessions. What was the guy's name already? Tetsuya Sakamo—

The footsteps near and he feels someone touching him on his head and his body, a low, calm voice asking, _Sanada, are you alright? _

The pain is fading but he still groans softly, _Shit…_

_I'm very sorry,_ Kirijo says quietly, her fingers lightly grazing his face. _I was careless. This will not happen again._ He hears the click of her pistol and she fires a shot, making him jump, then a pleasant warmth fills him. He is able to sit up, feeling as if his energy has slightly replenished. He is not in that much pain anymore, though his arms are still bruised and sore. _What… what was that?_ He asks breathlessly, rubbing his neck gingerly, forgetting that he is supposed to be mad at her.

_A healing spell. _Her tone is most aggravating, like she is talking to an idiot.

_No, I meant __**that**__. _He points at the remains of the Shadow and then to himself. _It attacked me with… something white and cold and…_ He shudders.

_A Bufu spell. _Her voice doesn't change. _It's an ice attack; the same thing my Persona—Penthesilea—can do. I'm sorry you had to go through that on your second night, but you will soon learn to get used to it over time. _

She is right, of course, but even after a few years, though he is able to build up a resistance to the pain and discomfort afflicted by other elemental spells, especially electricity, ice remains his one single weakness. Perhaps his mind subconsciously relates the element to the pain and panic he had felt when he first started out in SEES. He knows what the juniors talk about behind his back—about him being _afraid _of Mitsuru, seeing as Bufu attacks are her forte—but although it isn't precisely true, he makes no effort to correct them at all. He might not be scared of her, but she _is_ his Achilles' heel.

o-o-o-o-o

_Kirijo_

It is her birthday today. How long have they known each other for? Almost seven years now, he thinks absently as he gazes down at Takeharu Kirijo's grave. It is his last day in Iwatodai—he had had a three-day course here—and he doesn't know why he had felt the need to come to her father's resting place, as if somewhere, at the back of his mind, he still understands that he must follow tradition and respect his elders, even if they have been dead for close to half a decade. He lays down the flowers he brought and scratches the back of his neck, lightly touching the small object in his pocket. He doesn't know what to say, so in the end, simplicity wins out.

_I'll take care of her,_ Akihiko promises silently.

He flies back to Kawasaki that very afternoon and heads to his apartment to find that she is already there. He grins and hugs her. _Happy birthday,_ he greets warmly as she leans in for a kiss. He has bought her no gift—she expects none, and that has been the unspoken norm ever since they were in high school. He can't think of anything she doesn't already have, anyway, and she herself knows how tight his finances can get, especially since he is still partly studying, not to mention he has been diligently saving for something these past few years.

He is cooking dinner for them tonight and insists that she just sits down to watch TV. As usual, she changes the channel to the business news, her eyes bright and alert, as if she is seeking to decipher something hidden in the bulletins. His culinary skills have improved since living alone (Shinji would be proud) and by seven in the evening, two plates of carbonara pasta and two glasses of wine are ready on the dining table. Mitsuru surveys the scene before her as she would a talking dog, but the hint of a smile on her lips is enough for him. He realises that this is the first time they are actually together for her birthday since graduating from school. Work commitments, study and the fact that they have not always been in the same city until four months ago have always come in the way of them meeting up.

He asks her about her day, how her new personal assistant is working out and about her upcoming business trip to Tokyo. She speaks openly, never hesitant to share and, in fact, valuing his input into her work at times. As he watches her from across the table, her luscious red curls inviting his touch and intelligent amber eyes drawing him in, he is suddenly reminded of the first time they met. He wonders how different his life would be if he had not known her—if she hadn't sought him out after that boxing match on that momentous night. He would have probably been driven mad by the fear and terror that had gripped him each night during the Dark Hour. In a way, she had saved him.

_Akihiko?_ Her concerned voice stirs him out of his reverie and he sees that her eyebrows are lowered. _Is something wrong?_

He shakes his head and bluntly responds, _Just thinking about you._ She stares at him, a hint of pink on her cheeks, and slowly gives him a somewhat coy smile. Even after all these years, she is still able to beguile him. When they are done with dinner and he has stacked the dishes in the sink, the evening is warm enough for her to bring him out to the balcony with their drinks. His apartment overlooks a small part of the city, and the view can be breathtaking at the right time of the night.

Mitsuru sips at her wine and takes in a deep breath and once again, he cannot help but study her carefully under the dim light. She is so beautiful. It is as if a part of his heart aches for her and he doesn't understand how someone like _her_ would choose to be with someone like _him._ Their upbringing and personalities are so different, and yet, they are compatible, somehow.

They have known one another for so long now, been through so much together, and sometimes, silent gestures are all they need to show each other how they feel, like the way she always leans eagerly into his embrace, or the way his hand lingers gently by her waist. This is supposed to be one of the most significant moments of his life, but he doesn't know why he is not anxious or nervous at all. She turns to him with a small frown, one way or another sensing that he is not himself this evening. _Is something wrong?_ She asks again.

He stands beside her, feeling the breeze ruffle at his hair, and reaches into his pocket. When he takes out the soft, dark blue box and holds it out to her, she cocks her head to the side in surprise, and when he opens it to show her the glittering diamond ring nestled in velvet, her eyes widen. She stares at it for what feels like a century, her glass wine still poised elegantly in her hand and her form as still as a rock, and then she looks at him.

He just smiles, and when she smiles back, he knows she is saying _yes. _

o-o-o-o-o

_Omelette _

Looking at Shinji, one would never think that he is a good chef. Akihiko doesn't know exactly when his childhood friend started to learn and like cooking, but needless to say, living in the dorm doesn't mean protein shakes and ramen for breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner anymore. Every day, he happily waits as Shinji cooks something up for both of them. Akihiko's palate is easily satisfied but even he knows Shinji's cooking is pretty damn good.

Mitsuru watches his dark-haired friend in the kitchen one weekend morning, her eyes studying him with interest as she stands by Akihiko, who is, as usual, sitting and waiting at the counter with a manga. _You joinin' us for breakfast? _Shinji asks her as he starts to heat a frying pan but she shakes her head, telling him that her father is in town and will be picking her up in five or so minutes. Shinji shrugs, grabs four eggs and cracks them into a big bowl. He adds some salt and pepper and beats them.

… _So you beat the egg… with a fork? _Mitsuru wonders aloud and from the corner of his eyes, Akihiko notices that she is leaning against the counter, her expression akin to one she would have when she is solving a difficult problem. Before he realises it, he is chuckling, and she turns to him in surprise. _I'm sure you've seen someone cook before!_ He remarks good-humouredly, then raises his eyebrows when she unexpectedly blushes, tucking her crimson hair behind her ear.

_Well, no, actually, _she admits. _It looks rather interesting. I'm quite keen to try it myself. After all, cooking is simply science, isn't it? _

Shinji pours some of the egg into the pan and gives her a pointed look, absent-mindedly twirling a spatula in one of his hands. Akihiko laughs again and says jokingly, _If that's true, then looks like cooking is the only science you'll ace, Shinji. _

Shinji twitches visibly, but he says nothing as he tends to the pan and Akihiko goes back to reading his comic. Mitsuru stays for a moment before the sound of a car honking outside the dorm gets her attention and she leaves, bidding them farewell. Another few minutes later, breakfast is served and as Akihiko hungrily attacks his omelette, he realises too late that his first bite is a tongue-numbing explosion of salt.

He promptly starts choking and on the other end of the counter, Shinji snickers almost evilly.

o-o-o-o-o

_Secret_

Things are simple and easy until Yukari Takeba arrives to live with them, and then one after another, more students come. It is getting harder to sneak around and sometimes, he wonders if the juniors notice their questionable behaviour, but none of them appear to realise that things are just not what they seem. His childhood friend, on the other hand, picks up almost immediately.

_Shinji knows what's going on between us,_ he tells her one evening when they are on the train together. It is late enough that the only passengers on the carriage are them, two middle-aged women and an elderly man sitting by the door. She is dismayed at first, then she sighs and says resignedly, _I suppose it was only a matter of time. He does know us best, after all. _

… _Is it so bad if people know about us? _He knows it is futile but he finds himself asking anyway. She sighs again, touches his hand briefly and moves her gaze to look out the window. Gekkoukan High can be seen in the distance, bright lights in the dark. _We've talked about this before, _she says quietly. _Things are fine the way they are now. Why make them more complicated by telling everyone?_

… _Are you embarrassed? About being with me, I mean, and showing everyone else that,_ he asks neutrally. A jolt shoots through her—or maybe that's just because the train is turning a corner—and she edges away to turn fully to him, her forehead furrowed. _No!_ She responds firmly, shock and hurt in her mahogany eyes. _Why would you say that?_ They are seated far enough from the other passengers that they still have their privacy, at least.

_I understand if you are. Really, I do, _he says honestly, and he is not lying. He really does understand.

_I'm __**not**__ embarrassed by anything! Why would you say that? _She repeats, confusion starting to reflect on her face. _Did I do something to make you think so? _

_No. _He quickly shakes his head, resting a hand on her arm. _It's just that, well, you're a Kirijo… and I'm a nobody. _He is reminded of what Shinji had said to him over beef bowl the other day, regarding her father, _You think he'd like the idea of his only daughter with an orphaned nobody when she could be with some big-shot CEO in a power suit?_

_You're not a nobody, _she says adamantly and a part of him is touched by her sincerity. _I don't understand why you would think that… and what does being a Kirijo have to do with anything? I like you, and I like being with you, and that's all that matters, isn't it? _

He blinks at her, wondering how she can say those things so easily without stammering or stumbling, as he would have. _Well, I… I like being with you, too,_ he ends up blurting out and it takes him a moment to realise that this is probably the first time they have said those words to one another. He scratches his head, suddenly feeling a little hot, and wonders how red his face is.

She stares at him mutely for a while longer before nodding matter-of-factly and saying hastily, in a manner that is so characteristic of her, _Good. I'm happy you share the sentiment. _

As the train continues on to their destination, they sit in a weird but pleasant silence, and he thinks about how strangely candid their confessions about their feelings for each other had been. He feels oddly at ease and cannot stop the grin reaching his lips. Maybe it is alright for their relationship to be hidden from others, to be a secret to guard. Suddenly, he doesn't really care anymore.

o-o-o-o-o

_Accident_

They are soaked to their bones when they finally reach the dorm. Shinji is shaking, smears of blood still on his coat and hands, leftover from what the rain could not wash off. Akihiko is numb and lost. Seeing Shinji trembling with eyes wide in fear and shock is very unsettling. He has only ever seen his childhood friend in such a state once before—years ago, during and after the fire that had claimed Miki's life. Akihiko himself had been in a similar condition. Actually, he is no different now.

Mitsuru has been on her cellphone ever since the Dark Hour ended ten minutes ago. She gestures for them to go upstairs but Shinji just plants himself at the kitchen counter and does not budge, breathing heavily. Akihiko stands beside him, not knowing what to do. His gaze locks on the dark, wet spots on the carpet.

_Go and get a change of clothes, _orders Mitsuru when she is done speaking on the phone. She is calm and firm, her level gaze not faltering, as if it has just been another normal night for them, whatever normal means anyway. As if they have not just—

_The fuck are you talking about?_ Shinji suddenly explodes, slamming a fist down on the counter and making them jump. _How the hell do you think you can stand around and just act as if—_

_Being hysterical won't change anything,_ Mitsuru cuts in sharply, her eyes narrowing and her jaws tightening. Shinji leaps up and grabs hold of her arm, yelling, _The hell would you know? You're not the one who did it! __**I killed someone, goddammit! **__How the fuck would you know how I feel?_

Akihiko is frozen, as if he is a spectator watching a fierce battle before him and there is nothing he can do to pacify either side. Mitsuru looks like she is going to slap Shinji, but she merely stares back at him staunchly, pulls herself free of his grip and says decisively, _Calm yourself, Aragaki! I have informed my father, and he and the Group will take care of this. This will be nothing more than an accident. Go to bed, the two of you. We have school tomorrow. _She looks at Akihiko and continues, motioning towards Shinji, _Make sure he cleans the blood off. I don't want any of it on the carpets. _

When she turns to stride off towards the stairs, Akihiko is left mystified and empty, a hollow shell of a boy beside an equally frustrated and terrified Shinji, who is suddenly silent and slumping against the counter, as if he has lost all will to argue, to move, to live. Before he can stop himself, Akihiko is running after her, anger simmering inside him, and he forcibly stops her just as she is taking the first step on the staircase. _What the hell was that, Mitsuru? _He demands. _You're acting as if nothing happened! So someone else cleans up our mess, but don't you care about Shinji and how he feels? Or is this your game; pretend that everything's okay, and then throw him to the wolves?_

She stares at him without a word and as he stares back, unable to read her emotions, he suddenly notices that she is quivering slightly under his touch. He lets go of her and she says, very quietly, _You forget who it was who actually started all this—the Dark Hour, the Shadows, our Personas. How do you think __**I**__ feel? You and Shinjiro may be helping me now, but it will be me, and me alone, who will bear the burden of my family's sins, and that includes what happened tonight. Shinjiro may have unintentionally killed that woman, but as a Kirijo, her blood is on my hands as well. __**He**__ will be able to move past this one day, but all of this stemmed from my own grandfather's legacy, and that is something I can never escape from. No matter how much I try. _Her eyes flicker towards the kitchen, though her face does not change. _Rest assured, nothing will happen to him. We will speak more of this tomorrow. _

Akihiko gazes after her as she leaves, troubled and completely at a lost for words and actions. Sighing, all of a sudden feeling very tired, he massages the bridge of his nose where a headache is beginning to throb. He had mistaken her terseness in the kitchen for indifference towards their situation and he wants to punch himself for that. Too late he realises that underneath that collected façade of hers, Mitsuru is actually suffering as well.

o-o-o-o-o

_Newspaper_

There aren't many students at the library at this hour. He sits down opposite her, opens his biology textbook and calmly places the day's paper between them. It is opened to the Business Section. She glances at him, then shifts her attention to the tabloid. Her eyes stay for about two seconds before returning to her work. He takes out a pen. _Why didn't you tell me?_ He bluntly asks. To anyone looking at them, they are no different from two pupils studying together.

… _You had boxing championships. I didn't want to distract you, _she responds. He bites back a snort and shakes his head, his grip tightening. _That's a lame excuse and you know it,_ he challenges. She stops writing and turns to him, her expression neutral, but he can sense the familiar annoyance rising within her.

_Why are you behaving as if I've already agreed to it? _Her tone is quiet, showing none of her anger or frustration. He is staring at the newspaper on the table, at the paragraphs he has read through numerous times today, in both disbelief and dismay. He actually doesn't even read the paper, preferring to get his news online instead, but one of his classmates had casually pointed out the short article that morning. The merge between the two companies. The unexpected announcement. The _engagement. _He hasn't been able to concentrate on anything else ever since. He knows about her past suitors, of course, but something like this is so sudden and yet she…!

Why is he behaving like this, she asks? _Because I know that you'd do anything for the company,_ he answers in a low voice, his jaw muscles tensing up. _Even sacrifice your own happiness._

Her gaze hardens. She takes a deep breath, tearing her eyes away from his, and shuts her book and starts packing her things. _We have discussed this before, Akihiko. I cannot understand why you won't just let it go. _He can tell she is trying very hard to keep herself calm, something which does not often happen. _You should know by now that the media always blows matters out of proportion,_ she stiffly said._ Yes, the Group __**is**__ considering a merge, but as far as I'm concerned, I'm __**not**__ engaged to anyone, nor am I planning to be._ She puts her books into her bag and gets up. When she walks away without another word, he is left with a bitter taste in his mouth and an acidic feeling in his gut, as if something is eating away at his insides, but he does not go after her. Instead, he stares once more at the article, reading that wretched word again and again, wondering for the millionth time if she is going to be wrenched away from him. Wondering if Shinji had been right about them—that they have no future at all.

He grabs the newspaper, folds it up and chucks it into the nearby bin.

o-o-o-o-o

_Awkward_

He slowly opens the door to the fourth floor meeting room and peers inside carefully. She is on the couch, a textbook and sheets of paper laid out before her, and she looks up when he enters. His face is flushed and he'd like to think it is only because he just got back from the gym, but he knows he wouldn't be able to have this inevitable conversation with her without feeling uneasy. _Hey,_ he mumbles a greeting and she responds with a _hello._ He stands by the book shelf for a moment before moving over to sit opposite her. She is watching him like a hawk and he doesn't know what to say.

_Akihiko,_ she starts quietly. _I want to talk about what happened the other night._ He feels his face getting hotter. When he got her message to 'discuss matters' a couple of hours ago, he knew she was speaking of the incident at Shirakawa Boulevard. She can be straightforward but he just wasn't expecting her to dive right into it so bluntly. His ears burn as he rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, recalling the situation they had been in.

_Yeah, uh… I'm sorry… _He really is. He doesn't remember exactly what he had done but suddenly coming to and finding himself—and _her_—in such a state of undress had been extremely alarming, especially since they had only been together for a few months. _I apologise as well,_ she responds hastily and then there is a silence. He has no idea what to say. Things have been a little difficult and embarrassing between them the past couple of days. Is apologising all they need to do for now? Would it make everything normal again?

_Akihiko…_ When she calls him again, her voice is very low and unsure, and he looks at her. Her cheeks are a faint pink and she brushes some of her crimson hair from her eyes—a simple action that lets him know the conversation has clearly brought her out of her comfort zone. She smoothes down her skirt, as if in an attempt to compose herself, and asks softly, _Have you… thought about us that way? _

He stiffens at her question and hesitates, suddenly unable to keep his eyes on her any longer. How should he respond? Of course he has thought about it—he is only human, after all, not to mention a guy. It is something that not only fills him with longing and a hungry passion but also uncertainty and fear, the latter not for himself but for her instead. He has never been in a relationship before, especially with someone like her, and he doesn't want to move too fast and scare her away. He wonders if somehow that Shadow had sensed the subconscious desires within him and had taken advantage of those feelings. Of course he _wants_ her… but their first time is supposed to be special,_ sacred. _He understands that it is a large step for her to take. For _them_ to take.

The very fact that he has taken so long to respond must have made her realise what his answer really is. He hears her get up and move to sit next to him and he doesn't know if he can handle looking at her just yet. _I know that I… well, I suppose __**we**__… aren't very—_She appears to be carefully trying to find the right words_—knowledgeable in this… matter. And I know that it hasn't been long since we started this… this relationship… but I like spending time with you, Akihiko, and when you're with me… everything feels different somehow… _

He finally gathers enough courage to raise his eyes to hers. Her face is a bright red and he knows she has never been so honest to anyone else before. It fills him with a strange sort of warmth when she tentatively reaches out for his hand and murmurs, _I trust you. If you feel that… that we're ready, then… I trust you._

He can't describe the emotions bouncing around inside him when he comes to realise how much she is willing to surrender to him. There is nothing he can say to something like that, so instead, he slips off one of his gloves to touch her and moves in to kiss her, and afterwards that night, as he is lying in bed, replaying their conversation in his head, he thinks that he might just be in love.

o-o-o-o-o

_Death_

It is their third day without Miki. Shinji finds him standing on a stool with a coil of rope in his hands, reaching for one of the beams in their dormitory.

The next minute, he is on the floor, coughing and choking, his cheek starting to bruise and swell. Shinji is standing over him, his face livid and furious, a fist raised as if wanting to punch him again. _What the fuck are you doing?_ Shinji shouts.

Akihiko says nothing. When he doesn't answer, Shinji punches him once more, this time on his other cheek, and drags him up. _You're just gonna give up, huh? Didn't know you were that weak! Come on, fight back! _Shinji taunts, kicking away the rope. _You think Miki would want this? You just tossin' your life away like that?_

At his sister's name—his _dead sister's _name—Akihiko retaliates, delivering a quick blow to Shinji's face. Shinji recoils, then turns to look at him with a vacant expression, breathing deeply. _Fight back,_ he repeats softly, and it takes a while for Akihiko to realise what he really means.

_Fight back against your despair, your anguish, your pain, _is what Shinji is telling him. _Fight back to live._

Strange how quickly the years pass when you stop keeping track of them. Even though they do not share each other's blood, Shinji is and always will be his brother. They are two halves of the same coin, the yin and the yang. They have grown up together, shared laughter and tragedy together, been there for one another and watched each other's backs.

It is the Dark Hour of October the fourth, and Shinji lies in a pool of blood.

Akihiko does not consider himself a sentimental person. Even as he is holding on to his dying childhood friend, all he wants to do is beat the crap out of Shinji. He wants to scream in frustration—_Why have you simply accepted your fate? Why are you giving up? Why aren't you __**fighting back? **_But instead, the only thing he says is a quiet affirmation to Shinji's final request.

Akihiko does not consider himself a sentimental person, but he cries that night for the first time since Miki's death. Mitsuru is in his arms—warm, comforting and gentle—and even as she kisses him, all he can think about is Shinji. Shinji's cooking. Shinji's rude sniggers and infectious chortles. Shinji's expression of apathy towards the 'protein shit' he always takes. Shinji's eagerness when they have beef bowl or ramen. Shinji's axe, Shinji's beanie, Shinji's peacoat.

Shinji's flaxen-haired and golden-eyed murderer.

… _I will __**kill**__ you, _he vows silently.

o-o-o-o-o

_Aftermath_

He hears her footsteps approaching from behind as he stands by the dull-grey tombstone before him, gloved hands tucked deep inside his coat pockets. It is drizzling lightly and she holds the umbrella between them when she stops to stand by him. He can smell her familiar perfume. Her red hair—much shorter now—is worn up and he can tell by her outfit that she has just come from the office.

There are no greetings or pleasantries. They say nothing as they stare at Shinji's grave, each marking the date on the stone in their minds. Ten years and close to four and a half months now. The sky is darkening. _I'm leaving for Ayanagi City tomorrow. _His voice is calm, almost hoarse, and he notices her looking at him from the corner of his eyes. _Is something wrong?_ She inquires.

_Kanzato hasn't been returning my calls. It's not like him._ He exhales loudly, a foggy cloud escaping his lips. _I have a bad feeling about this... I'm going down to check things out. _

She is quiet for a while, then she says, _How long will you be gone?_ When he shrugs and shakes his head, she is silent again. He knows she will not object to his intentions. It's not like his work is entirely unrelated to her, or her company, for that matter.

… _Have you told Eri?_ She asks softly. _She'll be wondering where you are… You remember how she was when you had to make that trip to Osaka last year._ He bites his lower lip, forehead furrowing slightly at the thought of the little girl dejected and crying. It rips a hole in his heart—no, it rips _another_ hole. There is already a gaping wound there. _Tell her I'll see her tomorrow,_ he says. _I'll drop by before my flight. _

She nods without a word. There is nothing else to say to her, so he turns to leave, but she reaches out to touch his arm. _Akihiko,_ she calls. The way she utters his name has not changed. He stops in his tracks and looks at her for the first time this evening. Her concerned gaze has not changed either. _Be careful,_ she murmurs and he can see that familiar glow deep in her eyes—the flame that continues to burn for them, for _him,_ even after all this years. The warmth he still loves.

_How did this happen, Mitsuru?_ He wants to ask. _How did __**we**__ become __**this**__? _But he does not voice his thoughts—the answer is too clear to him already. They have known each other for so long now, have been through hell and back, and he can't help but envy how simple things were for them before. They had thought that they could take on anything as long as they had each other and now a part of him wants to laugh cynically at their naivety. The battles they had fought, the memories they had gained _and_ regained, the friends they had lost. The years of long distance relationship, surrounded by people who wanted to break them apart; they had endured so much and yet, everything was still no match for the argument that had propagated the crack—that _tiny_ crack that had always been in their relationship—into a full-blown fracture, shattering their worlds in an instant.

He hates that he has broken the unspoken promise he made that day on her father's grave. Maybe Shinji was right. Their lives are just too different—have been and always will be. He still loves her and he knows the feeling is mutual, but maybe it is possible for two people to cherish each other better when they are apart. He only deeply regrets the fact that they had dragged Eri into their mess. A child should never have to go through something like this.

… _Akihiko?_ Mitsuru calls softly and he realises he has been staring at her the whole time. He lifts a hand to smooth back his damp hair and turns away, saying, _Don't worry. I'll send you a message when I get there._ He walks off, pulling his jacket tighter around him, nodding to her bodyguards as he passes the sleek, black sedan parked by the gates.

He knows it doesn't matter now, whether they still cared for each other the way they used to, but as he strides down the walkway, his vision blurry in the drizzle, he cannot help but touch the cold, golden band around his finger, hidden under leather, and wonders if she is still wearing hers.

o-o-o-o-o

_**You know that I love you so**_

_**I love you enough to let you go**_

_**- Kelly Clarkson: Already Gone - **_

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are much appreciated. **


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